Out for a postprandial stroll this evening, I spotted four young people on the opposite side of the street, coming in my general direction. When they changed course to cross the street toward me, my primitive reflexes activated and I did some quick mental computation - four of them, one of me (ok, so two of them were girls); they looked youthful and muscular, I was old and fat; on the other hand, this is a safe neighborhood, I'm still big, and my hiking staff has a (dull) point.
Their apparent leader, a muscular and shirtless youth, accosted me with a greeting and a leaflet. I was invited to a Bible study group in someone's apartment; and, did I "have a personal relationship with Jesus?"
This was a bit of a tough question for me. The truth is, I only know the guy from his books, movies, and television commercials. On the other hand, whatever they claimed, I was pretty sure the same was true of each of them. My reptilian brain reviewed the arithmetic, cravenly said "Yes," and sent me on my way.
Once home, I read their leaflet:
Are things falling apart?Well duh! Or should I say damn right?
No answers?Well of course I have answers - I'm a blogger! Maybe not correct answers, but they didn't look like they were likely to shed much illumination on the questions that really interested me in any case.
No hope?I'm just a dope for a thing called hope, with apologies to Mary Martin et. al.
And the free food probably wasn't that good anyway.